Marevanye
by Marevanye
Summary: Gandalf prayed for help to come. It was not the kind of help he was expecting. But then...I wasn't really expecting this, either... excerpt from Bonnie's journal. Who's Bonnie, you ask? Good question... PLEASE R&R!
1. Bonnie Babble

Ack. Don't know what to write now that I have the chance! Hmm. Okay, me thinkie. Okay, so basically, this story picks up when Gandalf is in Saruman's tower of Orthanc. I'm kind of jumping back and forth between the storyline of the movie and of the actual trilogy. Oop, Dharma & Greg is on, you wait right here while I go watch. Tick tock, tick. Ah, I do love that show. They're so darn cute. Ahem, where was I? Oh, hello, when did you folks get here? Oh, right! The story! Umm, let's see now. This is my very first fanfic. Well, the first one I've bothered to write down on the comp. Hopefully, also the first one I actually finish. Cross your fingers and pray! And away we go!!  
  
"I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly."  
  
As Gandalf came to, he was first aware of the cold. It was very cold, in fact, and getting colder as an icy rain began to pour down. Then came the sounds from far below. Ripping, rending as though the very Earth screamed. Moving carefully-O, how his body ached-Gandalf peered over the edge of Orthanc. His heart broke within him, grieving such senseless destruction of life. The rain came down harder, Gandalf turned back round sinking to the cold floor, pulling his cloak tighter. He froze suddenly aware of eyes watching him. A shape huddled opposite him against one of the stone spikes of the tower. The wizard braced himself, wary that the creature may be some lapdog of Saruman's, perhaps sent to torment him. Or perhaps playing the part of a rebellious servant being punished, assuming Gandalf will have pity on it and conspire together, only to betray the Grey to the formerly White. Aia! How his head spun! He slowed his thoughts. He was being hasty. Just wait and see. Through flashes of lightening, Gandalf's keen eyes could make out that the shape was roughly Man-sized, knees drawn up to the chest, and bare, gently muscled arms clutching shoulders that trembled with cold. His long, wet hair concealed additional features, but his breath was visible and rapid, from cold, fear, or both. Gandalf guessed, his head reeling again, that it was a youth of the race of Men. The wizard calmed, only a little. He made a move towards the youth, feeling consciousness slipping away. The youth recoiled further at the sudden motion; Gandalf stopped, but called to the youth through the rain. "Tell me, young one, how you have managed to fall from grace with Saruman at so tender an age?" Gandalf spoke the question in the common tongue; the youth inclined his head slightly. After a moment he replied, but in a language obscure. Even more shocking to the wizard was the voice: it was light. and it was feminine. Gandalf stared at her in amazement. Then he knew no more.  
  
************************************************************** When the wizard next opened his eyes it was day, and another pair of eyes stared back at him. With his still-blurred vision and numbed brain, he for a moment thought he saw Saruman ( for who else could it have been?), and panic took him. Gandalf gave a cry of alarm, and then he remembered the young Man. Wait, it had been a girl, hadn't she? At his cry, the child started and stumbled back and kept backing until she was pressed against stone wall. Raising himself slowly, Gandalf studied her carefully. The child-well, young woman, actually-was tall, or so he supposed; at the moment her long limbs were curled in a tight ball, and she was breathing hard again, reminding him of how he first saw her the night before, albeit less soggy. Her clothing was odd and foreign: a white shirt without sleeves and breeches dark blue, made of some coarse-looking fabric. From her earlobes silver hoops swung, one on each side, with an extra hoop halfway up the curve of her left ear. She had a mane of thick curls spiraling down to her waist the color of rich mahogany that caught the sunlight like a reddish-brown gold, and smooth, pale olive skin. Her face was fair, she had a high forehead, a long, straight nose, and a full, pretty mouth. Her eyebrows were finely sculpted, though the right one stayed perked a bit, questioningly. Wide eyes held a continually startled expression, and it was her eyes that held Gandalf's attention the longest. Large, just slightly almond-shaped, and framed with long, thick lashes. The wizard had trouble designating what color they were exactly. Round the very middle were pale golden wreaths which bled into an assorted of gray, blue, and green, and at last surrounded by a deep ocean blue-green. Arda, he decided. Eyes of the woods and mountains, of the seas and the stars. Using what skill his still-aching head could muster, he searched her eyes intently and saw no malice or deceit, seeing instead gentle innocence, intelligence, and hesitation mixed with humor, though at the moment apprehension was prevalent. The wizard realized guiltily that his cry had frightened her. Remembering the odd tongue she spoke last night, he ran through in knowledge of the languages of Middle-Earth. none, it seemed, matched her accent or dialect. Gandalf felt he should try them all, at any rate. If he could find one she spoke perhaps he could reassure the child that he was not an enemy. Gandalf tried all the tongues he could think of, which were many, indeed, but to no avail. The girl listened with a look of curiosity and confusion, aware he was trying to communicate, but shaking her head each time, no, she didn't understand. The wizard seemed to have achieved one of his goals, at least partially: she appeared to fear him no longer, or at least not as before. She relaxed some, became less tightly balled up, and even stood to stretch. A look of solemn fear and awe and longing crossed her face as she gazed out at the vast expanse to be seen from the tower of Orthanc. Of amazement, to the northwest, then of sorrow and reproach--looking down into the mess of the once-beautiful Isengard. Gandalf observed he was right: she was indeed quite tall. In fact she would have stood almost at eye level with a Man of the race of Numenor. And she had not quite an Elven look about her, but something at least very ethereal. "The Quendi , Valar, and Maiar speak in thought with one another," he thought to himself. Could this child ? She seemed mortal enough, but then Gandalf knew of at least one Man who could share so strong a bonding of minds. He had to try. The wizard watched as the girl turned again to the yet-unspoiled north west, to the mountains and trees, and softly she began to sing. To his amazement, he knew not only her words: he heard--felt-- the music as she called the memory from her mind.  
  
I had a dream of the wide, open prairie. I had a dream of the pale morning sun. I had a dream that we flew on golden wings, And we were the same, just the same, you and I.  
  
Follow your heart, little child of the West Wind. Follow the voice that's calling you home. Follow your dreams, but always remember me: I am your Brother, under the Sun.  
  
We are like birds of a feather. And we are two hearts joined together. And we will be forever as one, My Brother under the Sun  
  
She stopped singing. Gandalf stood shakily. Can you understand? Do you hear me? he asked fervently. She turned to him with look of amazed pleasure. I can, she answered. I can! Trying to his excitement of this unexpected success, he asked her gently, Who are you, child? She smiled. Bonnie.  
  
A.N.: Yeah, not the longest chapter, but I have Biology tomorrow morn, and I will be seriously screwed if I don't get some sleep. I still have a bit of homework for it, too. I'm supposed to explain about an experiment I've performed sometime during the course of my 20 years by way of Scientific Method. I think I'll tell him about the time I was 7 and me and J osh tried to make a flying potion. It involved my babysitters cup filled with water and dirt and grass and glue (to make the potion stick), and a feather. We were going to be mad scientists together, Josh and me. Anyway. PLEASE review, or I'll never speak to you again. I'll try to get a new chapter up soon, if I can wrestle the keyboard away from my sister again, preferably before midnight next time. Ah, me. Oh, and I know it's not funny or romantic yet, but give me time, it'll evolve.^_^ 


	2. Facts and Fever

A.N.: Hey, thanks to Moonlight Sonata and for reviewing, I'm glad you like it so far. When I wrote this on WordPad I actually did make it so you could tell when Gandalf and Bonnie were speaking mind to mind--I had it in bold, but when I downloaded the story here, that all went bye-bye for some reason, along with most of my paragraph spaces. (That was a bit disappointing, normally I don't remember to make proper paragraphs, but I did this time--I was so proud of myself--and the mean old whatchamacallit went and whatchama-did something! Hmph!) Anyway, then I decided I kind of liked it, that when they first spoke it was subtle, simple, and harder to locate, so I figured I'd just pretend that happened on purpose.^_^ As to the response from Doctoroc, your response really made me laugh. I do not intend this to be a romance between Bonnie and Gandalf! He's one of the Maiar, for goodness sakes; he's the one who finds her, that's it! In fact as far as Gandalf's relationship with Bonnie goes is that she loves him like a father, and he loves her as a friend and daughter. I may be demented enough to write myself into a story (who hasn't wanted to, right?), I'm not totally nuts! ^_^ No, when Bonnie does meet Mr. Right, it'll be likely predictable, but not icky. I'm glad you wrote though, I'll be sure to clear that up! That first reviewer with my same name would be my sister, who read it right after I posted the thing and stumbled to bed. (And, hey! I actually woke up for biology the next morn! I wonder what Dr. Martin will think of my, ahem, experiment?) She wants Haldir. I want Haldir, but she also said I could have Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Elrond, Gil-Galad, Celeborn, Frodo, and Merry; so maybe I should --urgh, sniffle--give up my claim on the arrogant little darling, what do you think? Oh, also, the song from the last chapter was part of a Bryan Adams song from the movie Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. I have the soundtrack, and I may pull other stuff from it for this story, but I'll try to remember to say who it's from, until I'm clever enough to come up with one of my own. Without further ado, more of our story.  
  
Who are you, child? he asked. She smiled. Bonnie. Who're you? Her thought/speech wasn't as clear as that of an Elf's, but part of what she sent him was sensory input, and to lesser degree emotion, along with actual word-ideas, and as they communicated her skill improved. I am called Gandalf the Grey. I apologize if I frightened you, Lady Bonnie. You startled me... Bonnie made a derisive sound, not quite a snort or a laugh, it reminded Gandalf of a horse, then coughed a little. She gave him a half smile and a self-deprecating bow of the head. Not "lady," please, sir. I'm no one of great importance. She tilted her head to the side and frowned slightly. What do you mean you're called Gandalf the Grey? Is it your name or isn't it? Why "the Grey?" Wait, first, what's with the Icy One? An icy wind picked up then, flinging her hair round her face. She clutched at her bare arms and went to stand behind a stone spike to block the wind, though it availed her little. Gandalf decided to address the first question last. Icy One? he asked, frowning. An image of a disdainful face formed in her mind. He looks like you, but he's different. His voice... Bonnie shuddered and coughed. He's all ice inside, I don't like him. He wants to hurt me. She looked round herself. He's trying to turn me into an icicle, at the very least, she added drily. Saruman, he muttered.  
  
That's his name?  
  
It is. Saruman the White, or so was he, upon a time. His heart has indeed become like unto ice. Though what design he would have for you is unknown to me.... He said this mainly to himself.  
  
Bonnie coughed again. She slid to the floor and pulled her legs to her chest in a now-familiar position. Gandalf began to recognize it as a position she chose when feeling vulnerable. I guess I'm still a bit chilled from that rain last night, she explained. I don't have any idea what --Saruman?--wants from me either. Maybe he just isn't used to people popping up in his backyard. I know I sure wasn't expecting it.  
  
Can you tell me what you mean, Lady Bonnie? You "popped" from somewhere?  
  
She ignored the "L" word, she was too busy freezing. She smiled lopsidedly again. No actual popping was involved. I mean that I was one place, and then suddenly, I was another. Don't ask me to explain it.  
  
Show me, he ordered.  
  
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Bonnie and her older sister Sarah were in the woods around the nature center, the latter carrying an odd little black box hanging from a strap round her neck, the former with a walking stick, carrying a slight grudge. Sarah had a project due for her art class and she was in need of a scenic view. Her little sister, having not as many classes as she, had more leisure time which was usually spent at the nature center or the surrounding woods, therefore, Sarah had. well she cajoled, threatened, and bossed. she called it asking for help. The girls were arguing good-naturedly, walking through the tall grass. Bonnie had just said something snide in the way of telling her sister she thought her very silly, and why did she needed help finding a scenic view, for Pete's sake, pick a direction, snap a picture, boom! there's your scenic view, now leave me to my sketchpad and picnic blanket in peace. (You know, sister stuff.) "Oh, since when do you mind going on a nature walk? That's the reason your always out here."  
  
"Hmph. I mind since certain people started frog-marching me out to my private sanctuary."  
  
Sarah laughed. "Sanctuary? What, now you're Quasimodo? You're just grumpy 'cause you're getting a cold."  
  
Bonnie stuck her tongue out at her, to which Sarah responded in like, also crossing her eyes, looking quite honestly psychotic. Bonnie grimaced and laughed. "You win, that's disgusting." Now, in television and movies, when someone gets "relocated" to some unfamiliar setting, there's usually a boom, a storm, a gust of wind, or something otherwise disturbing. At least a psychedelic, spinning portal. It happens in different ways with different people (though believe me, there's only a half-dozen at best that this has happened to [one or two of which you've probably read about in the history books]), but what most people don't realize is that it's actually a lot more subtle than that.  
  
For Bonnie it was the feel of a warm, grey mist which swallowed her up in an instant, and just as quickly vanished. It was as though her vision blurred and when her eyes refocused, she surrounded by trees unlike the ones she'd just left.  
  
Tall, O so much taller than her own, and ancient. They way she described it was that while her own trees were alive before she was her parents' births, these seemed to whisper of the birth of the human race. She liked them at once. They reminded her of something she couldn't remember. [A.N.: Wow, that was sort of redundant. *shrugging*.] They filled her with a sense of peace. All in all, she reflected later, a very quieting place. Now, where was her sister?  
  
"Sarah? Saaaaar--raaaaaaah!" Nothing but her own echo. "Hello?" Pretty nice place for an echo, though. Bonnie walked along, noticing the grass was clipped short, like at a big park. This lawn must belong to someone.whoa.  
  
The Orcs had been gorging themselves on flesh and ale, when the strange bellowing began. They didn't know what was said, but from the sound it was some despicable mortal female, obviously a very stupid one to wander so far from the main village of Isengard into the Orc's camp. The old wizard, Sharkey, had given them this area to do with as they would. (They had to lie low until the arrival of the other wizard, the Grey Pilgrim, or whatever the scum called himself now.) How dare some despicable little waif of a human trespass here? Still and all, it was her own fault for coming; maybe they could eat her or something. They rose to their feet excited at the thought of tearing into fresh man-flesh.  
  
Before her was an enormous, gothic-looking black castle-tower thingy, adorned with stone spikes, intense and forbidding. Someone with a warped sense of home-security, or ah. something. The tower was taller, more ancient than any building she could have seen back home, as the trees here were also. You couldn't really say that they looked like they belonged together, but something about that tower just seemed. off-kilter.  
  
Bonnie couldn't quite put her finger on the problem. While she stood trying to decide whether it would be a bad idea to see if whoever lived there could figure out how she got here (and/or how to get back--she was sure Sarah would kill her for disappearing on her... oh, right, my point), she heard suddenly the sound of a horrible din behind her in the forest. Alarmed, she backed tentatively in the direction of the tower. "That's not Bambi," she breathed.  
  
Then out of the trees they burst, bulky, black skinned creatures running at her. Her first thought was that they'd all been burned terribly, for their skin was not black as in reference to ethnicity, a color she'd always thought of as kind of pretty, but that of fire or rot. "Holy cow!" she gasped. Bonnie then noticed the cruel-looking weapons they held, and realized what they were about. "Holy--freakin'--cow!" she yelped.  
  
Now Bonnie, as a rule, had never been a track and field kind of girl. She liked horse-back riding, swimming, canoeing, archery, but not especially track and field, unlike her sister. Also unlike her sister, Bonnie did not scream when startled. Now, however, with a mob of deranged, burned, mental hospital escapee monsters barreling in her direction, she sprinted off at speeds that would have done proud any Olympian, and she was yammering at the top of her lungs. (The thought flitted briefly through her mind that if she hadn't been completely freaked out at the moment, it would've looked darn funny.)  
  
Bonnie didn't look back, but she could tell that she actually was getting some distance between herself and the monsters. She remembered when she was ten and she forgot that she was supposed to wait for her dad to pick her up for piano lessons. She'd taken the bus, and then remembered too late what she was supposed to do. Her father was a kind, loving dad, but he did not like to be inconvenienced, and sometimes had a rather loud way of expressing himself. She hoped he'd be waiting at the babysitter's when the bus dropped her off, and if he was, she'd run and hug him and tell him how sorry she was before he could have a chance to yell. When she got off that bus, she'd shot off like a rocket, according to her friends, who had never seen her run so fast. "Well, hello, my old friend, Adrenalin," she thought tersely. [A.N.: Of course, it also helped that the Orcs' bellies were stuffed with meat and they were somewhat inebriated.^_^]  
  
Her screams attracted the attention of another, who came grumpily to the steps of his great tower to see what all the excitement was about. The old wizard saw a human woman in strange clothing and loose, flowing hair tearing across the lawn in his general direction, running as if a band of Uruk-hai were after.Ah.  
  
Bonnie saw a tall, white figure on the steps of the great tower. He could help her. For crying out loud, he'd better help her! Her leg muscles burned with effort as she bolted up the steep, long flight of stairs. She stopped in front of the old man, breathing heavily. (She'd have thought him bizarre if she could see him; she was too busy staring at her tennis shoes, she was bent in half with exertion.)  
  
"Please." she rasped between breaths, "help..me."  
  
She turned to look at the monsters, who had stopped respectfully at the bottom of the stairs. (If the word "respectfully" can even be used regarding Orcs.) She went up another step, repulsed, as she now got a better look at them. Monsters, she'd called them before.she'd been right. Or demons. Goblins, she decided. Bonnie believed the phrase "beauty is as beauty does." But there was no doubt in her mind that that phrase did not apply here. Discernment told her they were evil. Her thoughts went wild: what had she done? She'd led Goblins right to a helpless, old man! She could have kicked herself.  
  
Bonnie turned to the old man. "We have to get inside, they'll kill us!"  
  
Saruman looked at the startlingly tall girl with cold curiosity. What language could she possibly be speaking?? Obviously she was in a state of panic, and babbling stupidly as a result. He probably would have left her to his pet Orcs at the bottom of the stairs, except that everything about her was so curious, so completely foreign. She wasn't an Elf. Was she Numenorean? Certainly she was tall enough, but none of the clans of men dressed their women so ridiculously. Strange.  
  
Bonnie turned back to look at the monsters, then realized that they had come after neither her, nor the old man. She looked back to the old man. He didn't even look afraid. A chill went down her spine, and she didn't like what she was thinking. He called down to the monsters in and deep, strong voice, though in what language, she had no idea. "Just where and what have I gotten myself beamed into?" she wondered to herself.  
  
A harsh, hateful voice answered the man, pointing to Bonnie. The other Goblins grunted and nodded their ugly heads, seemingly to verify what their leader said. The man spoke again, and the goblins ran off back in the direction of the trees. Then he turned to her and began to speak in that deep voice. Saruman knew he would soon have whatever answers he wished. This girl may be strange, but she was only human, he was certain of that. She'd come under the spell of his voice, it was only a matter of time. He would find out all he wanted, and then maybe he would let the Orcs eat her. It would keep him in their good favor.  
  
Though Bonnie didn't know the words he spoke, it had a calming affect on her, in actuality, not well for the wizard. When Bonnie was in her early teens, she was prescribed pills to help overcome insomnia. She took half a pill, and it completely put her down. She'd hated the feeling, and refused to take anymore of them. That experience saved her now, for as that familiar, drugged sensation swept over her, she realized, and her anger began to burn.  
  
"Oh, no you don't," she interrupted, not caring whether he understood. "You're not slipping me a Mickey!"  
  
The sorcerer-- for that's what he must be, she thought --looked the slightest bit startled at her interruption. Then he smiled gently and started again. Bonnie put her hands over her ears.  
  
"Uh-uh. Cut it out, now!"  
  
An expression of hurt crossed the sorcerer's face. He tried to start again, only to be cut off with a firm "No!" Bonnie frowned at him, knowing that he would at least understand. She backed away from him, slowly, shaking her head.  
  
Saruman was at first only annoyed at her interruptions, and now that it seemed she understood what he was trying to do, he was faintly alarmed. No matter. That little worm, Grima, son of Gamlod, had understood and resisted, and in breaking him, had become so much the weaker. This little pest would be no different. Saruman focused his energy on the girl, stopping her in her tracks, forcing her to remove her hands from her ears, and began again.  
  
She gritted her teeth; he unclenched them. She tried to drown him out with noise of her own; Saruman silenced her. His voice, dripping sweet poison, slowly began bleeding into her. Tears rolled down her cheeks.  
  
"I can't keep him out on my own!" Bonnie thought in despair. She called on the Father, "God! O Jesus, help. you gave me my mind. You gave it to me, not to. Don't let him take it.help. Please, Lord, don't let him... Help." And then her eyes went dark.  
  
Saruman realized in amazement that she was no longer paying him any notice: her mind was elsewhere. He looked down at her in disgust, and called for his servants; two appeared at his elbow. "Take her to the very top of Orthanc." They bowed low, then picked up the girl's prone body and carried her away.  
  
How? How had a mortal woman withstood his Voice? He looked out at the world furiously and thorough confounded. His face changed as he saw a Grey shape come riding up. Well. Perhaps this day could still go his way. He'd think about the brat in his tower once he convinced Gandalf joined with him.  
  
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Bonnie coughed. Looking at Gandalf through eyes that watered, she said, When I woke up, I was here, and it was getting cold and windy and dark. Not a lot later, you arrived. Gandalf had now a thousand questions more he wanted to ask, but at that moment Lady Bonnie looked ill. He said instead, I dislike the sound of that cough. Are you not.... well?  
  
As he said this, Bonnie leaned her head over the edge and heaved. Gandalf was now truly concerned. He went to kneel beside her and put his hands on her head. She was burning.  
  
A.N.: Whew. This is why more people don't time travel! In case anyone is wondering, there's a reason I made it so Bonnie and people from Middle-Earth can't understand one another. My theory is this: even though one assumes that the Common tongue is English--and sure, why not?--it's important to remember that this also is a time period many thousands of years ago, so even if it is English and they're both speaking it, they wouldn't be able to understand a darn thing the other was saying. Ooh, Andromeda's on now, gotta go. Keith Hamilton Cobb, folks. Talk about your eye-candy. ^_^  
  
P.S.: Don't forget to push the magic review button! 


	3. A Brief Apology to the Readers

Sorry folks, this isn't a chapter. It's an apology. I haven't updated in forever and that's really lousy of me. I can't update just yet, but I promise that updates are on the way! So please don't kill me.  
  
Marevanye 


	4. Names, Travels, and Dreams

Okay, now where was I? Oh, right, Bonnie was in the process of trying to barf up a kidney and fjdsapioew;'j;' Ack! Folks, that was my sister's kitty, Pooh-Cat. It seems that Mr. Pooh would like to cuddle. Right now. On the keyboard. Wait a second while I try and appease His Majesty. Oh, da ba-aby, da sweet baby kit-ty. Mau-uu... I love you, Pooh! Dis sweet snoogy Mau-face googy wuvvy-snuz! Much squealing Da squishy Mau-face wuvvy. Baby kit-teaeaeaeaee!...More squealing, much kitty fluff flying in the air

Whew. Okay, I did NOT just lose it, my sister has rules about how to snuggle her kitty...fortunately, he likes being fussed over. However, I think I'll start the story now, because judging from that bug-eyed look on your faces, if I don't soon do something that resembles sanity, you will run away and never come back. And I really want reviewers! One last thing: ldssunshinegrl, they say great minds think alike. It must be true, because the next words out of Bonnie's mouth will be:...

She was burning. The wizard frowned. You are becoming feverish. The rain, it seems, chilled you more than you knew.

Bonnie coughed and spat repeatedly, trying to rid her mouth of the bitterness. If Saruman's down there, I hope I hit him, she muttered. She offered Gandalf a half-smile and crawled away from the edge to lay curled on her side, letting the cold, stone floor cool her heated forehead. She sat up suddenly. Well, never-mind that. Too cold. She coughed again.

Gandalf watched her with uneasiness. He knew that once his strength returned he could heal the girl easily enough, alas, as yet, fatigue was upon him still. Anger and grief burned in him. When did Saruman the Wise abandon reason for madness? The news of his treachery was indeed more than enough to trouble Gandalf's heart, but this young one next to him... Saruman had left her neither cloak nor food. How long did he intend to hold her prisoner? How long, in such cold, could she possibly last?

Bonnie sat rocking forward and back slightly, something she did oft in times of distress. She looked curiously at...what did he call himself?... Gandalf the Grey... who appeared deep in thought. No sound save the wind could she hear, and the silence seemed to press in round her.

So. Are the two of you...brothers or something? she asked, stirring the wizard out of reverie. Gandalf looked at her. You look it, anyway, though he doesn't exactly display "brotherly love"...

In a manner of speaking, I suppose you may say we are brothers. She looked at him expressionlessly. He tried again. He and I are of the same Order.

Bonnie looked perplexed. That didn't help at all, really, she said honestly. She remembered her other question and decided to drop this one for now. A.N.: She's not a ditz, she's just tired, sick, and under the influence of someone writing a sloppy chapter.

You never did answer me...sir, she said. He looked at her in question. You said you were CALLED Gandalf the Grey. Isn't it your name?

Gandalf knew the girl's true implication: she was afraid, in need of diversion, and he took pity on her. Many are my names in many countries. Mithrandir among the Elves, Tharkun to the Dwarves; Olorin I was in my youth in the West that is forgotten, in the South Incanus, in the North Gandalf; to the east I go not.

Had Bonnie not seen outlandish fiends in burned skins, were she not before now subjected to the voice of Saruman, she would have thought him senile or a liar, naming such creatures as Elves and Dwarves. But she had seen things; things she knew could not be reasoned away. They actually exist? The...the Elves and Dwarves? What were those other things, the monsters or Goblins or whatever they were?

Goblins, yes. They are called Orcs, he replied. Most are not that big, or black-skinned. These are Uruk-Hai. Saruman is breeding an army, one that can move in sunlight, and cover great distance and speed.

Bonnie shuddered. An army? Why?

The wizard hesitated. He had already told her more than he intended to, and why he was not certain.

Bonnie noted his hesitation and decided on a change of subject. You must travel a lot, then. Gandalf smiled. This was something of an understatement. She continued, I've always wanted to travel. I've never been more than a hundred miles from home, but...I want so badly to. There's so much I've never seen, so much I want to know.

Gandalf noted the longing in her eyes with fondness. She was likeable, humble, with an eagerness he found endearing, like a new fawn learning to stand. She looked at him, and then smiled wanly.

No one has that many names where I come from. Do they all mean the same thing?

They all mean me, he said somewhat vaguely.

Gandalf the Grey, Olorin, In-Incanus...what was the other one?

Mithrandir and Tharkun, he reminded.

She shook head in amazement. Name and word meanings have always fascinated me, she explained, coughing once again. Most people where I'm from have only three: first, middle, and last, but their not called names based on different directions on a map--it's just whatever their parents named them. Well, the first two anyway--the last one's the family name.

And you, lady, what are your two other names?

She told him. Bonnie means "goodness" and "beautiful", and Brae, of course, is a hillside or a meadow. My family name means "hero with the strength of the bear". Quite a mouthful, really, but I kind of like it... Please stop calling me a lady. It's kind of unnerving.

Is it? And why is that, La—Bonnie, I mean? he asked.

Bonnie shrugged her shoulders. It just is. It sounds too stuffy, I guess, she said. She chuckled a little. Call me Bonnie, unless I should have another name for wherever I am now.

Gandalf looked at her thoughtfully. Marevanye, he said.

She cocked her head to the side. What?

Mah-ray-vahn-yah, the wizard repeated, sounding it out for her. High Elvish for 'Good Beauty'. It is your first name in Elvish.

Bonnie grinned. I really like that. It has a nice rolling sound: Marevanye. Call me that, if you want to.

Gandalf smiled at the girl fondly. Marevanye it is.

Suddenly her face faulted slightly. Speaking like this, it's hard, she explained. It makes my head hurt after a while. She curled up tighter.

Time for a Song Break:  
...Isn't anyone tryin to find me?

Won't someone please take me home

It's a damp cold night

Trying to figure out this life

Wont you take me by the hand

take me somewhere new

I don't know who you are

but I'm, I'm with you

I'm looking for a place

searching for a face

is there anybody here I know

cause nothings going right

and everything's a mess

and no one likes to be alone

Isn't anyone tryin to find me?

Won't someone please take me home

It's a damp cold night

Trying to figure out this life

Wont you take me by the hand

take me somewhere new

I don't know who you are

but I'm, I'm with you

Oh why is everything so confusing

maybe I'm just out of my mind

yea yea yea

It's a damp cold night

Trying to figure out this life

Wont you take me by the hand

take me somewhere new

I don't know who you are

but I'm, I'm with you

The song "I'm With You" performed by Avril Lavigne is the theme for this chapter. But I couldn't find where I wanted it, so I just insert the thing here. I changed one of there words, some of you may notice, because I just don't want any curse words in my story, so that word was replaced with the word "damp."

"Gwaihir, go," Gandalf whispered to the fuzzy little moth cradled in his hand. "Gwaihir, go..." The small creature took off fluttering its pale, moonlit wings as fast as it could.

The wizard eyed the girl as she shivered, attempting to sleep, but clearly having a very bad time of it. She huddled next to him for body heat, wrapped tight in his outer cloak—underneath he had an equally dilapidated Elven robe—though neither offered much guard against the wind. Gandalf was deep in thought. It had not escaped his notice that there was a great deal more to this girl than what met the eye. Marevanye had been taken from some other world to this one, an extraordinarily uncommon happening. She had recognized the danger in Saruman's voice and had resisted him, she spoke mind to mind, she even illustrated for him how she'd come to be in the Pinnacle of Orthanc, as though Gandalf had been right beside her at that moment. That took a rare strength indeed. It did not fail to occur to him that her arrival coincided with the time of his appeal of help to Illuvatar.

She also asked intelligent questions—she stirred suddenly, interrupting his thoughts again. She turned to him, a feverish glint shown in her eyes. Her fever was not improving.

I—I don't feel good, she whimpered. I dreamt—it was real, it's still echoing in my head...

Show me, the wizard breathed.

Marevanye pulled Gandalf into her fevered dream. The girl stood in a Golden Wood which was turned silvery on a moonlit night, eyeing a liquid mirror. She trembled with a sense of uncertainty and trepidation as a voice emanated from the mirror, rich and soft as velvet, beautiful and perceiving. The words were foreign and unintelligible, and whispered almost inaudibly.

Then feathers fell around her like snow. A deeper, masculine voice, patient as time, drowned out the first voice. This one called from behind, "Eagle of Manwe..." Marevanye turned to the voice, but saw not the speaker, but an Eagle enormous in size. It resembled a golden eagle, but only slightly. The creature one could never merely call a "bird" was an emblem of virtue and nobility with great, golden eyes full of wisdom and age, deeper than the seas. Integrity shone in his countenance, and Marevanye's eyes stung at the beauty and purity of him.

"Thorondor, Eagle of Manwe," the voice repeated, "For the loyalty and devotion..."

The original voice, the velvety, perceiving voice, intercepted the conversation, profuse with conviction and accosting the girl in mid-dream: Dorthach vi mar han? Dagrathach go hain? Marevanye turned again to the mirror, at first seeing only her own reflection wavering as the words vibrated again.

Dorthach vi mar han? Dagrathach go hain?

Her heart felt pierced by an arrow. The image before her changed. She saw the blade of a sword with white-hot crack lines, as if it had been broken and was being made whole. It shined so that it hurt her eyes to look. The image changed to one of a child among adults, looking vulnerable and frightened, yet noble and determined. Marevanye felt moved with compassion for him, heart breaking at the look in his eyes. Again the image shifted, and there were people crying, and then another fast shifting. Wings outlined with a blinding light.

Dorthach vi mar han? Dagrathach go hain?

And then Gandalf was back on the Pinnacle of Orthanc with the shivering human girl. She was whispering the last words of her dream again and again, not knowing their meaning.

She looked at Gandalf with feverish, tired eyes. Marevanye knows not those words or their language, she murmured, inadvertently mimicking Gandalf's speaking . Does her friend The Grey know them? Before he could answer, she slumped against his shoulder, utterly exhausted. Yes, he sighed to himself, he did know them. He knew their meaning all too well. What The Grey did not know was why this human child was given a question such as that.

Staring up at the moon, he drowned out the din of destruction taking place so far below.

"Almighty Illuvatar, Father of All, I thank You for hearing the cries of Your servants. I thank You that even now You are working to bring things around to the greatest possible Good—but I confess, my Lord, that I understand not the ways in which You work. This innocent who lies here beside me is here by Your leave alone, else she would not be here at all. I cannot see neither how, nor why, she has appeared in these fateful hours, but neither must I know yet.

"You, O Lord, make all things clear in the fullness of Your time. I will wait upon You, the One who has never deserted me. Though you slay me, yet will I serve You. But, my Father, I cannot believe You would send Your daughter here to die on this Pinnacle, when she's only just arrived. I ask You to see her through to fulfill her purpose, and I ask the same for all of us who fight for the Good of this world and the others. And I ask for help to fly to our aid with all speed. "I thank You that You work in ways I cannot understand, for it demonstrates how truly wondrous are the works of Your hands, through those You have called to take part in Your plan.

When no other words would come, the Grey sat in stillness and awareness of the ever-presence of his King.

"So be it, in the name of Illuvatar."

And he waited patiently.

A.N.: Okay, brownie points to whoever can tell me where those Bible references came from in Gandalf's prayer, or what that bit of Elvish meant, which WILL be revealed in a later chapter.

I hope that prayer didn't sound too stuffy. I think that God doesn't care how formal we sound when we pray, because we shouldn't be praying to impress God with big vocabulary words, but that IS how Gandalf talks, at least as close as my imitations come, so he was speaking from the heart, and praying IN FAITH.

Please, leave a contribution in the little box!


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